He smiled but he did not disagree. ‘Not out of the hearts and minds. I think that any man who has seen how the poor suffer in this country, and has seen the way that poor men fought for their rights, would want to see the great wastes and parks opened up so that homeless people could build themselves houses, and hungry people could grow food. I’m a landholder myself, Mrs Tradescant. I don’t want my garden walls pulled down. But I don’t want huge parks enclosed to feed and shelter deer while men and women outside go hungry.’

Hester nodded and led the way down the garden path towards the blaze of colour that was the tulip beds. She glanced back with a half-smile at John Lambert’s transfixed expression.

‘They’re good, aren’t they?’

‘They are superb,’ he breathed. ‘I must, I must have some of those.’

‘I’ll fetch a pen and paper for your order,’ Hester said with satisfaction. ‘And you must come again next month and see the roses. They are going to be wonderful this year. I like our roses even better than our tulips.’

He shook his head, and something in that gesture alerted her that he was not as carefree as he had suggested. ‘I’m afraid I will be busy elsewhere in June,’ he said.

Hester understood what John Lambert had meant when the day after his visit the news came of royalist bands mustered in every town and village in every county. Men who had put away their pikes thinking the battle was over were running and riding up and down the country lanes again, calling men to fight for the king, who needed only one battle to be won against a demoralised and divided Parliament and army to come to his own. The navy suddenly declared for the king and sailed into harbours all along the south coast, and declared every port as royalist. All over the country the retired royalist officers were out again, calling men to arms. Each county, each town, each village had its own royalist headquarters and royalist troop. The nation was at war once more, spontaneously, naturally, and the prize was to release the king and restore him to his throne in a great heave of nostalgia for the days of peace before the war.