‘I am John Tradescant, gardener to the king.’ John followed him. ‘I was planting my headright up the river when the Powhatan saved me from starving. I lived with them for years. I have come to Jamestown to ask for clemency for Opechancanough.’

Sir William blinked at the extraordinary story and hesitated. ‘Clemency?’

‘He’s an old man, and he could see no way forward for his people. If they had been allowed to settle fairly after the first uprising he would not have felt so driven. They’re ready to make peace now, a lasting peace, if we could only give them the land they need.’

‘You are a spokesman for them?’ Sir William asked. ‘You’re on their side?’

Almost imperceptibly a couple of soldiers from the assembly doors edged a little closer.

‘No,’ John said. ‘They have expelled me. I am an Englishman and as soon as I can I shall return to London. But I owe them a debt of gratitude. They took me in and they fed me when I was near to death of starvation. I should like to repay my debt to them and indeed, Sir William, I think they have not been treated fairly by us.’

The young man hesitated for only a moment, then he shook his head. ‘This is a new country,’ he said. ‘We are exploring all the time, south and north and west. The Powhatan, and the other savages, have to know that this is our country now, and if they fight against us, if they break the peace, then death is the only response.’

‘The peace was here before we arrived,’ John said quickly. ‘The country was here before we came. The Powhatan were here before we came. Some might say that it was their country.’

Sir William looked sharply at John. ‘Then that man would be a traitor to England and the king of England,’ he said. ‘You say you were servant to the king himself. He’s not a man who accepts half-loyalty, and neither do I.’

John thought for a moment of his long-distant court life and the king who could not distinguish between half-loyalty and play-acting and reality. ‘I am faithful to the king,’ he said. ‘But it is a bad example to kill the king of the Powhatan. He should be like all kings – inviolate.’

‘This is not a king,’ Sir William said with sudden impatience. ‘This is a savage. You insult His Majesty by the comparison. The person of a king is sacred, he stands only below God himself. This dirty old Indian is a savage and we shall hang him.’

He turned abruptly from John and walked away.