The great fear was not political opposition but religious madness. The men and women who would give their form of worship no name because they wanted it to be everywhere, to be the nature of life itself, were growing in numbers. Their opponents called them Quakers because they shook and trembled in religious ecstasy. Their enemies called them blasphemers, especially after one of their number, James Nayler, entered the city of Bristol like Jesus on a donkey with women throwing down palms before him. The House of Commons had him arraigned for blasphemy and savagely punished; but the mutilating of one individual could not stop a movement which threw up adherents everywhere like poppies in a wheatfield. Very soon John’s visitors banned the discussion of religion too, as overly distracting from the work in hand.

A couple of times Lord Lambert came from his house at Wimbledon to see any new additions to the garden or the rarities room and sometimes stayed for dinner to talk with the other guests. Sometimes men brought curiosities, or things that they had designed or built. Often at these talks Ashmole would lead the discussion, his classical education and his acute mind prompting him to take the part of host in John’s house.

‘I don’t like how Mr Ashmole puts himself forward,’ Hester remarked to John as she carried another couple of bottles of wine into the dining room.

‘No more than any other man,’ he answered.

‘He does,’ she insisted. ‘Ever since he catalogued the collection you would think that it was his own. I wish you would remind him that he was nothing more than your assistant. Frances knows her way round the collection better than he does. Even I do. And Frances and I kept it safe through three wars, while he was at Oxford living off the richness of the court.’

‘But neither Frances nor I know Latin like Mr Ashmole,’ John reminded her gently. ‘And he worked very hard for nothing more than my thanks. I couldn’t have completed the task without him, you know, Hester. And he’s a coming man, mark my words. He’ll do great things.’

Hester gave John a brief, sceptical look and said nothing more but turned to go back to the kitchen.

‘Is Alexander coming downstairs tonight?’ John asked her. It was Alexander’s habit now to join the men in the evening after they had dined so that he could listen to their talk. He wore his gown with a rich robe wrapped round his shoulders against the cool evening air. He was often too breathless to speak but he liked to listen to the men discussing, he liked to follow the arguments especially when they talked of astronomy and the new discoveries of the stars.

Hester shook her head. ‘He’s too weary,’ he says. ‘Frances will sit with him upstairs.’