‘But I do have a right to speak,’ John said. ‘Because I know things that you don’t. Because I have thought of things in all this time. I have struggled with one loyalty against another, with one love against another. You might think that I am weak – but this is how my life has come to me. It is not a simple life of simple loyalties. I am not like my father. He found master after master that he could love and follow with a loyal heart. He loved Sir Robert Cecil, and then the Duke of Buckingham, and then the king. He never questioned that they were the master and he the man. But it’s not been like that for me. And it won’t be like that for you. The world has changed, Johnnie. It’s not enough to cite duty any more and go marching off to the rattle of a recruiting drum. You have to think for yourself, you have to pick your own path.’

There was a long silence in the orchard. Somewhere in the high leaves of one of the trees a blackbird started to sing.

‘I beg your pardon for speaking as I did,’ Johnnie said stiffly. ‘And I ask your permission as your dutiful son. I want to go and serve the king. That’s my path. I have considered it for myself. I want to fight for my king.’

John shot a look at Hester as if to ask if she could see a way out. One look was enough. Hester’s face was tragic, both hands gripped under the shield of her apron.

‘God bless you and keep you then,’ John said slowly. ‘And come back home the minute you have a doubt, Johnnie. You are the only Tradescant heir, and very dear to us.’

Slowly Johnnie dropped to one knee on the grass for his father’s blessing. Over his bent fair head John looked at Hester and saw that he had said the right thing – they had to let their son go to war.

Dearest Mother and Father,

I write this to you on the road to Colchester. I am riding with Lord Norwich and half a dozen gentlemen and a fine troop of more than a thousand strong. We were rebuffed at London – I got there as they were leaving, unluckily for me – but at least I am in a troop of horse gathering recruits as we go.

The mare is keeping up well and I am sure to feed her every night. We have to forage for our own feed which is hard to do in some of these farms that were poor enough before we arrived and are left worse. Some of the gentlemen use the farmers and labourers very hard, and this does not increase our welcome further down the road.