The king reached forward and struck the wing of Cook’s gown a vigorous thwack with his cane. There was a gasp from the crowd. Cook abruptly stopped reading. The silver head of the cane fell off and noisily rolled along the uncarpeted boards before coming to rest a few feet from the king’s chair. Charles looked around for a servant to pick it up for him. Not a man moved. It took him a long moment to realise that no-one was going to do it; then he shrugged, as if he was indifferent to the slight, and bent and picked it up himself.

John felt his shoulders hunching as if he were ashamed.

Bradshaw, the president of the court, took command of the situation. ‘Sir, the court commands the charge be read; if you have anything to say afterwards you may be heard.’

John knew that the king would take any restriction on his speech as an insult. Once, it would have been treason. Surprisingly, the king was silent and Cook started to read the charges from the roll.

After all the rumours and accusations it was odd to hear the charges put so simply. John found he was straining to listen to every word, one hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate. The king was accused of trying to overthrow the rights and liberties of the people by making himself a tyrant. They accused him of making war against his own people and listed the battles where he had been personally in command. Then they accused him of plotting against the kingdom with foreign powers. There was nothing of interest, it was all a matter of fact. The king had undoubtedly done all these things.

The king turned in his chair, as if the long reading of his crimes was not of much interest to him, and looked up at the galleries at the many faces he knew, and out at the body of the court. John raised his head; the king’s gaze flicked over him with its usual indifference. John had to fight a desire to call out – and knew also that he had no words to call out.

Cook’s accusation went on to what seemed, to most, the worst crime of all – the renewing of the war after the king’s defeat. There was a soft groan at that point, many men and women had thought the battles were finished and a peace in the making last year. None of them would forgive Charles for his final throw of the dice which had cost so many more lives and had taught the fighting men a new savagery.

‘My God,’ whispered Alexander. ‘They want to kill him. They are impeaching him for treason.’