Alinor gasped and put her hand to the base of her throat and felt her pulse thud. “Really? Truly? He’s dead? The king is dead?”

“Yes. You’re like everyone else that I’ve told, all the way down the London road. Everyone acts like it was a shock, but he was on trial before a court, in full sight of the people, and he had it coming since Nottingham. Why should anyone be surprised that time ran out for him?”

“Because he’s the king,” Alinor said simply.

“But not above the law, as it turns out, as he thought.”

“How did they do it?” Alys asked curiously.

Alinor went to the foot of the staircase and shouted for Rob to wake and come down, for his uncle was home, poured her brother a cup of ale and sat beside him. She could hardly bear to listen, knowing what this would mean for James. But she had to know: a kingdom without a king was a puzzle that the people of England would have to solve. And how would a people as diverse as the minister, or Mrs. Wheatley, or the Chichester apothecary agree as to how they should be governed? Or would it all be decided by the likes of Sir William and nothing really changed at all?

“They did it lawfully,” Ned answered his niece. “In a court of law, though he denied it to the last.”

“I mean the execution? We knew that he was on trial. But nobody thought he would be executed. We had sight of a news-sheet after the first day, and then nothing.”

He sighed. “I was glad to see it done, and it had to be done, and it was just that it was done. But, Lord knows, it’s always pitiful to see a man die.”

Rob, tying the laces on his breeches, came downstairs, shook hands with his uncle, and sat at the table to listen.

“Where’s Red?” Ned suddenly asked, looking under the table, sensing an absence where his dog should be.

Alinor put her hand on his. “I’m sorry, Ned,” she said. “He died. He was in no pain. He was just very tired one morning, and by evening, he was asleep.”

He shook his head a little. “Ah,” he said. “My dog.”

They were silent for a moment, and Alinor cut Ned a slice from the breakfast loaf and put it on a wooden platter before him.

“What about the king?” Rob prompted.

“They beheaded him?” Alys pressed.

“They beheaded him. Quickly and well, on a cold morning. He stepped out of a window of glass so tall and so wide that it was like a door to his palace of Whitehall. So he was never in a cell, though they found him guilty. He was never chained, though they named him a criminal. He spoke for a little while, but nobody could hear him—there were thousands of us there, crowded in the street—and then he laid himself down and the executioner took his head off. One blow. It was well done. He did not give the executioner pardon, which was sour. He said he was a ‘martyr to the people.’ I heard that much: the idiot.” Ned coughed and spat into the fire. “He died with a lie in his mouth, as was fitting. It was us who were a martyr to him. He lied to the very end.”