‘Not with General Lambert in the way,’ Alexander observed.

Johnnie checked. ‘Is he going? The Scots have never beaten Lambert.’

‘He’s bound to. I would think Cromwell will command with Lambert as his second.’

‘It makes no difference to me!’ Johnnie declared. ‘This is the return of the prince. I must be there.’

There was a silence, Frances turned to her father, who had not yet spoken. The silence extended. Johnnie looked towards his father at the end of the table.

‘He is the king,’ Johnnie said desperately. ‘Crowned king.’

‘He’s not crowned in England,’ Hester said sharply. ‘He’s not our king.’

‘He’s the third king of England that this family has been called on to serve,’ Johnnie pressed. ‘And I am the third generation in royal service. This is my service now, this is my king. I must serve him as you served his father and my grandfather served his grandfather.’

There was a long silence. Everyone waited for John to speak.

‘You know my heart, sir,’ Johnnie said with careful courtesy to his father. ‘I hope you will give me leave to go.’

John looked down the table and saw his son blazing with bright intensity. He was restored. He was the Johnnie who had ridden out to the siege of Colchester, nothing like the ghost which they had sent back. John carefully avoided Hester’s minatory gaze and spoke softly to his impassioned son.

‘I have to weigh your safety against your desire to serve the king. It’s not my cause, Johnnie, but you are a grown man and I see that it is yours. But you are the only heir, the only Tradescant to carry the name …’

Johnnie cleared his throat. ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘But this is a great cause. It is worth a sacrifice.’

Hester moved quickly as if she would cry out against the thought of Johnnie being sacrificed to a cause, however great. Still John did not let himself look at her.

‘If the Scots get as far south as York,’ he said carefully, ‘then you may join them. You don’t want to fight for the king in Scotland, Johnnie, that’s their own business. I wouldn’t see you fight on their soil. But if they get to York I will buy you a horse and equipment and you can enlist, and I shall be proud to see you go.’

There was a swift intake of breath and a swirl of grey silk at the end of the table as Hester leaped to her feet.

‘And your stepmother agrees with me,’ John ruled, forestalling the quick exclamation.

‘I can see that she does, sir,’ Johnnie said gravely, a quiver of laughter in his voice.

‘She does indeed,’ John repeated.

Hester subsided into her seat again, her hands holding the edge of the table as if physical force was the only way she could restrain her speech.