One day Edwina came over to Lyon Court as she did so often. She said that friends of Carey’s had called on their way to their country estates in Cornwall and had stayed a night at Trewynd. They had brought news from London.

There had been another plot which might well have succeeded; and if it had, said Edwina, we might have had a new Queen on the throne.

“That could never be,” I said. “The people are firmly behind Our Sovereign Lady, Elizabeth.”

“Nevertheless the Spanish ambassador has been dismissed from the Court. He is returning to Spain without delay. Francis Throckmorton has been arrested and is now in the Tower.”

I said: “There have been these plots ever since the Queen of Scots came to England.”

“And there will be, some say, until her death. It is a wonder the Queen does not sanction it. Mary is in her power and one hears that the Queen’s ministers constantly advise it, yet she holds off.”

That visit of Edwina’s disturbed my peace of mind.

It was June and the gardens were full of damask roses, which I loved particularly because they reminded me of my mother. Mayflies danced over the pond in the garden and there were pyramids of loosestrife by the streams; purple nettles abounded in the hedges mingling with roses; and on the air was the scent of honeysuckle.

The weather was exceptionally calm which created a stillness everywhere as though nature were waiting for something dramatic to happen.

Soon, I thought, Jake must come home. It is on a day like this that I shall look from my window and see the Rampant Lion on the horizon.

The night came and I sat at my window, as I often did, looking out to sea; I was restless that night; it was almost like a premonition, for as I sat at my window I heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs in the distance, then coming nearer and nearer. I could see nothing and suddenly the sound ceased. I wondered who was riding by at this hour and as I sat at my window I saw the figure below, stealthily creeping across the courtyard.

It was a familiar figure. Roberto! I thought.

I went down hastily, unbolted the iron-studded door and stepped out into the courtyard.

“Roberto!” I cried.

“Madre!” I held him in my arms and he was almost sobbing.

“My love,” I said, “you have come home. But why do you come so stealthily?”

He whispered: “None must know that I am here. I have much to tell you.”

“You are in trouble, Roberto?”

“I don’t know. I may well be.”

With a terrible anxiety I bade him take off his boots. He must come to my bedroom as quietly as he could. I sent up a prayer of thankfulness that Jake was not at home.

We reached my bedroom in safety.

I said: “Are you hungry?”

“I ate at an inn near Tavistock,” he told me.

“Tell me what is wrong.”

He said: “Madre, we must set the true Queen on the throne. We must depose the bastard Jezebel.”

“Oh, no,” I cried. “Elizabeth is our good and true Queen.”

“She has no right. I tell you, Madre, she has no right. Who is she? The bastard daughter of Anne Boleyn. Mary is the daughter of kings.”

“Elizabeth is the daughter of a great King.”

“By his concubine. Queen Mary is the true and legitimate heir. She will restore the True Religion to England.”

“Ah,” I said, “it is a Catholic plot.”

“It is the desire and determination to set up the True Religion, Madre. Spain is behind us. They are ready to strike. Their dockyards are working day and night. They are equipping the finest Armada the world has ever seen. None will be able to stand against it.”

“My dear Roberto, we shall stand against it. Do you imagine that men like your stepfather, like Carlos and Jacko, would ever be beaten by the greatest ships in the world?”

“They are braggarts, all of them.” How his face contorted with contempt and hatred as he spoke of Jake. “When they see the ships of Spain have come against them they will realize they are beaten.”

“That they never will.”

“You cannot understand the might of these ships, Madre.”

I did remember the majesty of one Spanish galleon.

“The day will come. It can come any time now. We have failed … but we will not always fail.”

“What has brought you here?” I asked anxiously. “You are in danger?”

“I may well be. I am not sure whether it was known that I was involved. I thought it wiser to leave. None know where I have gone. They may discover my involvement. Throckmorton is in the Tower. If they should rack him…”

“Throckmorton!” I said. “You are involved in this? Oh, Roberto. Roberto, what have you done?”

“I was given my post on the recommendation of Lord Remus and that may have saved me. Remus is trusted and he vouched for me. But because of this I thought I should get away for a time. So I came here. But, Madre, if they should come here to look for me…”

I said quickly: “How can we keep your visit a secret?”

“Just for a while, Madre … until we can be sure.”

I said: “Thank God your stepfather is not at home.”

He laughed. “What joy he would have in handing me over to Walsingham.”

“Walsingham!” I cried.

“He has his spies everywhere. It is due to him that we are discovered.”

“This is like a nightmare come to life. It is what I always feared. This conflict in the family. My mother suffered from it … so much. And now…”

There was a fanatical light in Roberto’s eyes. He took my hands. “Madre,” he said, “we have to bring back the True Religion to this sad country.”

“Tell me how you are involved. Tell me what has happened.”

“Francis Throckmorton has traveled widely in Spain. He has spoken to men of great influence there; he has seen what efforts are being made. From Madrid he went to Paris and there met agents of Queen Mary. The Queen’s family, the Guises, are proposing to raise an army and Throckmorton returned to London and set up in a house at Paul’s Wharf. There he received letters from Madrid and Paris and they were passed on to the Queen of Scots.”

“Oh, my God, Roberto, what are you involved in!”

“In trying to bring great benefits to this country. In trying to bring the people back to sanity, to truth and…”

“And to bring yourself to disaster.”

“Madre, I should be dying for a great cause and what would my death matter if that cause were to succeed?”

I said angrily: “It would matter to me. What do I care for causes? I care for my son … my family. What matters it to me what doctrines flourish? I believe in the simple one: love one another. It does not seem to involve how one worships, only that one behaves like a good Christian.”

“You think like a woman.”

“If only the whole world would do that it would be a happier place.”

He said: “Walsingham’s spies saw Throckmorton’s visits to the house of the Spanish ambassador. He was arrested; his house searched and there was found a list of Catholics in England who were prepared to take part in enterprises to restore the true religion.”

“And your name was among these?”

“It may well be.”

I was silent in my terror.

“We must hide you, Roberto. But for how long? Before the household is astir we must hide you.”

“Manuela will help,” he said.

I knew that he was right.

I said: “I will call her. But no one must know why. Stay here. Do not stray from this room. I will lock the door while I am away.”

I went down to the room where Manuela slept with Jennet. I was thankful for the promiscuous habits of Jennet, for she was not there and Manuela was alone. I was prepared to ask her for some toothache remedy if she was not, but that was not necessary.

“Manuela,” I whispered, “Roberto is here.”

She rose from her pallet with alacrity, her face alight with joy.

“He has come back?”

“He may be in danger.”

She nodded as I explained.

“We must hide him for a while,” I said. “You must help me.”