John was about to reply when the doors at the back of the hall were slammed shut, the usual signal that the court was about to reconvene, and then the king re-entered, smiling slightly, like a man who is playing a role which is too absurdly easy for him to take seriously, and seated himself in his red armchair. Then the commissioners came in again. Downes was not with them.

‘He’s not there,’ Alexander said quickly. ‘That’s bad.’

John Bradshaw’s face was as grim as Cromwell’s. He announced that the court would not accept any more delays. There would be no calling of the Commons and the Lords. The court would proceed to sentence.

‘But a little delay of a day or two further may bring peace to the kingdom,’ Charles interrupted.

‘No,’ Bradshaw said. ‘We will not delay.’

‘If you will hear me,’ the king said sweetly. ‘I shall give some satisfaction to you all here, and to my people after that.’

‘No,’ Bradshaw said. ‘We will proceed to sentence.’

The king looked stunned, he had not thought they would resist the temptation of an agreement. He sat back in his chair for a moment and John could tell, from his absorbed expression and the gentle beating of his fingers on the arm of his chair, that he was thinking of another plan, another approach.

It was John Bradshaw’s great moment. He had a speech in his hand and he started to recite. He read slowly enough for all the writers from the journals to copy down what he was saying. He cited the traditional duty of Parliament and the duty of the king, and the claim that kings could be held accountable for their crimes. The crowd grew restless during the long legal citations but Bradshaw came to the point – that the king, by taking arms against his people, had destroyed the agreement between a king and his people. He was there to protect his people, never to attack.

‘I would desire only one word before you give sentence,’ the king interrupted.

‘But sir, you have not owned us as a court, we need not have heard even one word from you.’

The king subsided into his chair as Bradshaw gestured to the clerk of the court.

‘Charles Stuart as a tyrant, traitor, murderer and a public enemy shall be put to death by the severing of his head from his body.’

In silence the sixty-seven commissioners rose to their feet.

‘Will you hear me a word, sir?’ the king asked politely, as if nothing had taken place.

‘You are not to be heard after sentence,’ Bradshaw said and motioned to the guards to take him away.