The king leaned forwards in his chair, his confidence increasing all the time. ‘For the peace of the kingdom and for the freedom of the people I shall say nothing about the jurisdiction of the court,’ he said clearly. Again, there was no trace of his stammer. ‘If I cared more for my life than for the peace of the kingdom and the liberty of the subject I should have made a particular debate and I might have delayed an ugly sentence. I have something to say which I desire may be heard before sentence is given. I desire to be heard in the Painted Chamber before the Lords and the Commons before any sentence is passed.’

‘What?’ John demanded.

‘What can he be thinking of?’ Alexander whispered. ‘A proposal of peace at last? Some kind of treaty?’

John nodded, his eyes on the king. ‘Look at him, he thinks he has the answer.’

Bradshaw was refusing, insisting on the court’s determination not to be delayed again when one commissioner – John Downes – started up. ‘Have we hearts of stone? Are we men?’ he demanded.

Two judges either side of him tried to pull him down. ‘If I die for it I must speak against this!’ he shouted.

Cromwell, seated before him, turned, his face black with fury. ‘Are you mad? Can you not sit still?’

‘Sir, no! I cannot be quiet!’ He raised his voice to reach everyone in the hall. ‘I am not satisfied!’

John Bradshaw surveyed the sixty-eight commissioners, saw half a dozen irresolute faces, a dozen men wishing they were elsewhere, a score of men who would have to be persuaded all over again, and announced that the court would withdraw to consider.

The king went out first, his step light, his head high, a slight triumphant smile on his face. The commissioners filed out after him, muttering to each other, clearly thrown off their course by this late offer. A draught of clean, cold air swept into the courtroom as the double doors were thrown open at the back and some of the crowd left.

John and Alexander kept their places. ‘I’m not leaving,’ John said. ‘I swear he will escape the hangman. They’ll return with an agreement. He’s done it again.’

‘I wouldn’t take a bet against it,’ Alexander said. ‘He could easily do it. The commissioners are all of them uncertain, Cromwell looking ready to murder. The king has them on the run.’

‘What d’you think they are doing now?’ John asked.

‘Cromwell wouldn’t purge them, would he?’ Alexander speculated. ‘Rid himself of Downes and any that agree with him? He’s done it with Parliament, why not with the court?’