She knew where to go. He was lying in the little rowing boat, his long legs over the back of the boat, gazing up at the sky where a few silver stars were showing against the pale blue.

Hester sat at the foot of the tree where she used to bring him to feed the ducks when he had been such a happy little boy. She observed the gently moving boat for a few moments before she spoke.

‘That was ill-done, Johnnie. You will have to apologise to Lord Lambert. He is a good man and he has been kind to me.’

The boat rocked a little as he leaned forwards, saw her, and then reclined again. ‘I know I was in the wrong. I will beg his pardon for speaking out.’

‘It’s foolish to fly out like that. You said enough to be tried for treason tonight.’

‘No more than thousands of others.’

‘Even so.’

The rocking of the little craft steadied and slowed.

‘I know,’ Johnnie said. ‘I am sorry. I will say I am sorry to father and to his lordship. And I won’t do it again.’

She waited for a moment. In the garden somewhere an owl cried hauntingly.

‘Are you not cold?’

‘No.’

‘Hungry?’

‘No.’

‘Will you come in now?’

‘In a little while.’

Hester paused for a moment. ‘You know, Johnnie, I doubt that even Charles Stuart grieves more than you do. From what I hear of him he is a light-hearted man who goes from plotting to dancing; and would rather be dancing. He gambles away the money that people risk their lives to raise for him. His friends have given their livelihoods and even their lives for him and yet he dresses in the best clothes and goes to balls, and chases women shamelessly. He’s a drunkard and a gambler and a lecher. He’s a young man, as you are a young man. But he takes his cause very light-heartedly. Why should you grieve for him? Why grieve more than he does himself?’

‘It’s not that.’ Johnnie’s voice came over the still water, she could barely see the boat now in the twilight. ‘All that you say about him is true. I was with him at Worcester long enough to see that he is light, as you say. Light-hearted and light-weight. But I don’t grieve for the loss of him as a man, I grieve for the loss of everything that kingship means. The loss of the court, the loss of a nation under one ruler, the loss of the beauty of the Church and music and colour, the loss of certainty of every man having a master. The loss of the gardens, the loss of the palaces. The loss of our gardens.’

‘We still have the Ark,’ she said.